


Jon Snow/ Jon Stark Targaryen

by TheLadyMuse



Series: His to Honour [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-09-20
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:34:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyMuse/pseuds/TheLadyMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Jon's Aunt Lyanna comes back from the dead, and a Northern House sends a Guard South with Ned, Sansa and Arya.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dragon-Eyed Direwolf Revealed

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Jon Stark Targaryen has spent half a year, every year, at Stonehome. Rickard accompanied him for the first few years, until he got used to it. Brandon, Amarantha the fifth, Lyanna and Arthur were brought to Stonehome before Jon was ever at Stonehome. As it stands, Dayan Stormheart and his wife, Alysane Mormont Stormheart rule Stonehome and are the Liegelords of all the Stormhearts, including their numerous grandchildren. Their eldest son, Daren, married Windra Karstark, and they had two children; Dayan the Younger, who is nineteen (and married to Taya Rivers, the bastard daughter of a Riverlord) and Amarantha (fifteen), sixth of her name. Jon Stark Targaryen (fifteen, currently), a.k.a. Jon Snow, will marry her on his sixteenth nameday before returning to Winterfell for the last time. Darek, Daren’s twin, married Tamira Hill, a Marbrand bastard (the sister of Addam Marbrand, Jaime’s friend) and they had a son named Darrod (eighteen) and a daughter; Valyria (fifteen), twelfth of her name. Mara and Brandon had twin sons Bael and Baren (fourteen), Lyanna and Arthur had a son named Arthur the Younger (fourteen), usually addressed as ‘Ash’, courtesy of Jon, and they also have a daughter- Alysa (ten). 
> 
> Rickard stays about every other time Jon goes, so he can know all his grandchildren. This time, Jon, Rickard and Theon Greyjoy have gone to Stonehome. They will go one other time before Jon’s wedding.
> 
> They have Direwolves, they just aren’t mentioned much. The Stormhearts have polecats. Jon was given one named Vayon, mate of Visenya, Antha’s cat, and she has Grace, Ghost’s mate. Theon has Meraxes while Valyria has Maena.

He did not know what he had expected, but it had not been this. Sworn to secrecy, and introduced to Amarantha Stormheart Stark, Arthur Dayne, Lyanna Stark Dayne, and Brandon Stark. Three were thought long dead, the fourth missing and gone. Jon had proudly pointed out his cousins- Bael and Baren, twin sons of Mara and Brand, as they had requested to be called, and Jons’ half siblings Ash and Alysa. Valyria Stormheart, the cousin of Jon’s best friend Amarantha ‘Antha’ Stormheart, had challenged him to spar, sword to axe. One loss later, he was informed she’d fostered with her grandmother’s kin, the Mormont’s, on Bear Island.

Amazing as it all was, the meals were more so. Theon ate in silence as he listened to the stories, always told one at a time, or bawdy songs sung once the youngest ones were in bed. Dayan the Elder had made him shriek with laughter when he told him how he walked in on Mara and Brand years ago, and had screamed like his wife. Who had slapped him for insinuating she panicked easily. The polecats and other Direwolves moved easily about the keep, on guard for any sign of trouble, while Ghost kept close to Jon and Amarantha.

The perks of Stonehome weren’t limited to dinner conversation. Daren, Darek and their sons taught him sword tricks Ned wouldn’t have, Windra and Tamira taught him how to care for the injured. An Ironborn visitor from Pyke named Goren Salt gave him news from his homeland. When the blow came that his death would mean nothing to his father, and likely not his mother or sister, Valyria had said fiercely “Then become part of the Pride.”

Theon had reeled from her declaration, puzzling over it until the bannermeet hosted by the Stormhearts. When Robb came, Theon conferred with Dae, as Dayan the Younger preferred being called, and Darrod, as Bael and Baren as well as Ash had retreated into the Warren, a maze of stone tunnels that had given Stonehome it’s name. They had assented that Robb could spar with them, as the numbers were uneven until Jon came out from where Antha had dragged him.

Robb was stunned by Stonehome. It was a hulking stone keep, which housed strong warriors and stabled great horses, made even more impressive by the women. Valyria, the daughter of Dayan’s younger son was a silver blond with blue violet eyes, while Amarantha, the heirs’ daughter was a pale, black haired violet-eyed wonder. Her brother and cousin had silver-grey eyes, like Jon’s. Theon, however, had changed. He no longer smirked at everything, and his eyes held sorrow. He was often in the company of Valyria Stormheart, as Robb tried to be in Amarantha’s company.

Once they were back in Winterfell, at dinner, Robb declared “I’m going to marry Lady Amarantha.” Jon started choking as Catelyn murmured her approval. Rickard snorted as he slapped Jon’s back. “Not if she has anything to say about it.” Robb turned on his grandsire and demanded “Why? I’m the next Lord of Winterfell-” Jon laughed at him. “She couldn’t give a shit, let alone a fuck that you are descended from the Kings of Winter.” Rickard snickered, as Jon slapped the table and gasped out “The Stormhearts are descended from a Blackfyre and a trueborn Lannister, you fool. Her brother married a bastard, her foremother married a bastard and-” Jon fell out of his chair, crying he was laughing so hard. Theon had been cackling the entire time, and continued to do so as he heaved Jon into his chair, returning to his seat as he chortled “Lord Dayan already agreed to her choice of husband!”

 

“Who is it? I’ll challenge him for her hand!” Robb cried out. Theon’s cackles and Jon’s laughter were renewed alongside Rickard’s snickering. “ME!” Jon shouted, giggling when Theon threw water on him, trying to get him to calm down. Rickard howled as Robb paled, and Theon gasped for breath, before lunging across the table to tickle Jon. “Argh, Greyjoy! You harm me, and-” Jon panted, then finished his threat. “Antha will beat you!” Theon smirked “Lyria will protect me.” Jon wrestled Theon, until Rickard kicked them out of the Great Hall to spar in the courtyard.

The Starks sat stunned. Jon was betrothed to the Lady Robb wanted to marry? This just did not seem possible. Sansa said as much, but Arya  just said she wanted to foster with the Stormhearts or the Mormonts, as she’d heard Valyria had done. Bran and Rickon were eating, as they did not care, and Robb was fighting tears. His bastard uncle had beat him all his life. In swordplay, in music lessons-Jon had learned the lyre and better singing with Lord Dayan- now, to the marriage bed and the choice of wife. Jon raced back into the hall and was followed by a screaming Theon, Jon vaulted over a table, cut across the room, and raced back out. Theon flopped on the floor, panting again. “Bloody direwolf, always ready for hunting games.” he muttered, pulling himself up as Rickard came in. “Ned, why’d you bring home the saltlicker? Can’t even fight an old cur like me properly.” Rickard chuckled as Theon swatted him. “Nice try, lad, but trying just means dying.” Cursing, Theon trudged to his chambers, ostensibly to change.

Jon found Robb hacking at dummies in the courtyard. “How much do they resemble me?” The wry question, asked without malice, defeated Robb. “Why did she agree to marry you?” Upset at his uncle, Robb did not turn to see Jon’s grimace. “It took her several years, threats, hugs and kisses to get it through my head. I can’t tell you much, but the Stormhearts have never cared for titles, give them love, land, a weapon and their Pride at their back and you keep the Polecats happy. Antha was named not for the foremother who bore her name, but for her father’s sister who disappeared around the time Arthur Dayne and Brandon Stark faced each other at the Tower of Joy. Westeros has neither seen nor heard of either Amarantha the Fifth, or her sister Rhaena Axe-hand since they rode South with the banners in the Rebellion. The Stormhearts have begrudged the Starks the absence of their daughters since then.” Robb pointed out “You are a Stark.” Jon grinned. “I go by Snow, and I’ll have a new name when I wed Amarantha.” Robb continued sulking for another moon.

When word came that Robert Baratheon, King on the Iron Throne, was coming to the North to offer Ned Stark the position of Hand of the King, Rickard hurriedly sent a raven to Stonehome, telling them to prepare, they would have the wedding in Winterfell. Jon would be recognized by someone as a Targaryen, he was sure of it. Terrified for the life of the grandson he’d raised as his own son for so much of his life, he closeted himself with Theon and Jon, pontificating on the possible problems. Jon, he reflected, had learned a lot from his betrothed’s family. He had shrugged and said easily “What will be, will be. I have the Pride and a good portion of the Starks and Daynes at my back.”

Robert and his entourage were in the courtyard when a short procession came through the gates, flying a green and silver pennant. Lord Dayan Stormheart, elder even to Rickard, swung down from his destrier with ease. Alysane, who had been lowering their penant, climbed off her horse as quickly as her granddaughters dismounted their palfreys. Antha greeted Robb with a cool nod, while her grandsire tugged her to Rickard, while Valyria fell in line eagerly. The former Lord of Winterfell beckoned his bastard and his sons’ hostage to his side, walking away and japing with Lord Dayan, who chuckled and scolded Jon for not practicing his lyre.  

Later that evening, while Robert was deep in his cups, Jon was presented with his lyre by Windra, who firmly intoned “Jenny of Oldstones, Snow.” Sighing dramatically, he began plucking the lyre, singing in tune with Amarantha. They wove a tragic tale that had Ser Jaime Lannister near to pissing himself. He cornered Lord Rickard. “Tell me the truth. How in the bloody Seven Hells can Jon Snow be both your son and Rhaegar’s?” Rickard sighed. Everyone was so deep in their cups that no one had heard Lannisters’ hiss. He waved Jon over, who shared a worried glance across the hall with Amarantha the Sixth. She hurried to Jon, who then strode to Rickard. “Not here. In your chambers.” Jon’s terse instruction had his grandsire nodding. He whisked the other three away.

Jon turned to Jaime in order to explain once they had secured Rickard’s quarters. “I am legitmately Jon Stark Targaryen, son of Rhaegar Targaryen and Lyanna Stark. The price paid to release Ser Arthur Dayne from the Kingsguard, due to a marriage of the Seven. I truly am legitimate, and heir to the Iron Throne before my uncle Viserys, and aunt Daenerys. My mother, Lyanna, my stepfather, Arthur, Uncle Brandon and Aunt Amarantha are all alive, well, and have procreated.” Jaime slumped against the door, stunned that the true King was in front of him. “My liege, how may I serve you?” Antha studied him. “You must needs meet with Arthur Dayne. He will instruct you in what needs to be done.” Jaime scowled at her until Jon mused “My lovely betrothed is right, go see my Da, he will tell you everything. Meanwhile, my lord Grandsire will request you accompany him on a roundabout ride of the North, a ride on which he’ll take myself as well. we will explain better in Stonehome.”

****  
  
  
  
  



	2. Roundabout the North

Riding with Jon Stark Targaryen was different from riding with Robert. Jon was quiet, simply riding, sometimes speaking a few words with Amarantha or Rickard or even himself, and Jaime was struck by how the peace settled him. Amarantha perked up when she noticed a huge, gnarled tree, she shouted to Jon “Race you!” and she urged her palfrey to go faster. Jon grinned as he nudged his massive destrier to a gallop.

Cantering into the Stonehome courtyard, Lannister was greeted by Lord Dayan’s castellan, Daerk

Stormheart, a cousin of Daren and his siblings. “Well, I must say, I did not expect the Lion of Lannister to visit alongside dear Antha and her betrothed.” The laconic statement ironically settled Jaime, who dismounted and followed Jon with his mount.

Rickard, Jon and Antha took him to a parlour where Ser Arthur Dayne nodded at him, lounging beside a Lyanna Stark who seemed to be frozen in time. Brandon Stark was seated with Lady Mara Stormheart, whose laughing eyes froze over to watch him. Jaime chose his words carefully. “My lord, ladies, Ser Arthur, Jon and Lady Amarantha, as well as Lord Rickard told me I must seek an audience with you.” Jaime couldn’t keep the stiffness out of his tone. He cringed inside, wondering if Brandon would be angry, if Lyanna would lash out.

Arthur studied him, quiet, intense and ready to judge him. He bristled at the idea the Sword of the Morning might find him lacking. Brandon leaned forward to whisper something in his goodbrother’s ear. Dayne frowned, but nodded, and leaned back, ready to make judgement of the famed Kingslaying Lion of Lannister. “You have fathered three children on your sister.” The steel in Dayne’s tone made Jaime’s eyes widen, and he nodded meekly. Sighing, Mara ran her hand through her shoulder length black hair. “We have to protect the youngest two, Myrcella and Tommen. Joffrey has already exhibited the tendencies of Robert.” Brand frowned. “We could present Jon as the Targaryen heir, and declare that either Robert and Cersei bend the knee, with the condition that Jaime raise his ‘niece’ and ‘nephews’.” Lyanna scowled and said “Antha has said before that although he would be a good King, Jon would prefer to be a Prince, travelling around Westeros, riding his courser with Ghost at his side.” Jaime cleared his throat.

“If I may?” He dared ask these legends made flesh. Arthur nodded, and Jaime began “Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen are living in Essos. They are Targaeryen, and Rhaegar’s siblings. As the heir, Jon could accede the Throne to an heir of Dragonblood of his choosing. He could travel to Essos with a few guards and be his own envoy to his aunt and uncle.” Mara blinked. “That could work.” Arthur stated “I do not like that Robert is taking Ned’s girls south. If not for the Stormhearts, Lyanna, Brandon and Rickard would all be dead.” Mara answered “So we manipulate Robert into taking a Stormheart delegation.” Lyanna smirked. “And I know how. Jon sent me a raven, warning me that Robert had almost gone crazy, wanting to see my likeness. He still thinks himself in love with me. My reappearence will throw him and everyone else off balance.” Mara agreed. “It needs tuning, but it might well work, goodsister mine.”

Later that day, Rickard, flanked by Jon and Jaime, swept through the gates of Winterfell. Brand, Mara and their sons, followed by Lyanna and Arthur and their children, cantered into the courtyard. Antha, onboard her silvery white palfrey, trotted to Jon and Rickard.

  
Ned and all his family and guests were stunned to see Brandon Stark himself dismount from a massive charger, and dismount, turning to assist the long disappeared Lady Amarantha the Fifth down from her own horse. Bael and Baren, hoods raised, gathered mounts and under Jon’s guidance, took the coursers and palfreys to the stable. Lyanna and Alysa were helped to the ground by Arthur and Ash. Lyanna’s hood fell back as she laughed and threw her arms around Arthur. Ash groaned “Grandda, do they have to do that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Apologies for the short chapter. Originally, I was going to finish Jon in a few chapters and post the completed fic. However, Life has gotten in the way. I will post again, sometime soon. But I don’t promise unless it’s a sure thing.


	3. Sharp Weapons, Sharp Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terribly sorry I posted so late!

Robert stared, slack jawed. Lyanna was alive, in the arms of Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Rickard let out a belly laugh at Ash's question. "Ah, lad, when you love as deeply as your Mama and Da, let me know so I can remind you that you said that." Brandon snorted, and retorted "Mara and I are more dignified, Da, I think Ash is on to something." Bael and Baren, trailing Jon, came back into the courtyard and lowered their hoods. "Da, you and Ma are not dignified."

Bael, the more talkative of the two, responded between snickers. Baren humphed and turned to Ned and Benjen, who was just down from the Wall. "You look a bit like Da and Aunt Lyanna. Mayhaps you are my Lord Uncles, Eddard and Benjen? I'm Baren Wildwolf, elder twin of Bael, son of Brand Wildwolf and Mara Stormheart Wildwolf, grandson of Rickard, cousin of Jon, Ash and Alysa, and, according to Jon, cousin to Lord Robert, Lady Sansa, Lady Arya, Lord Brandon and Lord Rickon, as I am nephew to Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn, and First Ranger Benjen."

Lyanna and Brandon guffawed at the family's looks of shock, which rivaled Robert's. "We'll tell our tales, the unvarnished one, if you all swear not to hurt any of those involved." Mara's stern pronouncement was met with confusion by those who did not know the full tale. Once they had sworn, Lyanna grabbed Arthur's arm and strolled casually to the great hall.

Upon being settled. Brand Wildwolf began his story. "Years before my betrothal to Catelyn was ever announced, Amarantha Stormheart, fifth of her name, came to Winterfell. She was a year younger than me, but I delighted in her presence. The day before I planned to go to my father with the request to marry Mara in our godswood, he told me I was to marry Catelyn Tully of Riverrun, that it was my duty as a Stark of Winterfell. I swore that if he forced me to marry her, I would hate the both of them until the day I died because Mara, through an ocean of tears, told me she was not worth the loss of my honour, that I would marry Catelyn. I raged inside, shoving my hatred in my Fathers' face, because I knew that Ned fancied Catelyn. I thought I could wriggle out of it by giving Ned the Lordship and giving him a push towards Catelyn. Then Petyr Baelish challenged me for her hand, and I knew I couldn't throw her to his mercy, because he would devour her spirit and crush her."

Pausing to let everyone gasp, he continued "I didn't realize it until later, but I only hated what Cat represented, which was losing Mara. I knew I would suffer the rest of my days if I threw away my honour and didn't bother to help a young girl not even over the threshold of womanhood. Mara would have been ashamed for me, and I could never bear her sadness. So I fought Baelish, won, and later blamed my father for Lyanna being gone. I went to King's Landing angry because after everything I'd told him and shown him- rage, hatred, indifference- he refused to release me from the contract he'd forced me into. It wasn't until he heard me sobbing as Aerys tortured us, that he realized what he'd done." Ned said, slightly confused “But . . .” Brandon rolled his eyes. "I'll continue when Lyanna tells you how she came to be in Rhaegar's service."

With a sigh, Lyanna climbed into Arthur's lap, and said "After a visit to the Aerie, where Robert announced his interest, and I saw him for what he is, even then, Father pushed me at Robert every chance he had." Robert protested "Lya, I-" The Sword of the Morning snarled "Fuck off, Baratheon, she's mine." Ash cheered "Go, Da!" Lyanna giggled at her husband and their son, picking up the story. "Like Brand, I shoved everything I had at Father. I tried reason, rage, and proof. He essentially told me I was nothing more than a means to an end, my protests meant nothing, and I would marry Robert anyway." Arthur growled "Until Harrenhal, my love." Curling into him, she smiled.

"You're right. At Harrenhal, Arthur asked me for a dance, and proceeded to question me about the Knight of the Laughing Tree. In the course of the tourney, Arthur and I became infatuated, but I was to marry Robert, and Arthur was part of the Kingsguard. Rhaegar crowned me as Queen of Love and Beauty in order to interrogate me about what I intended to do with Arthur's infatuation." Jon groaned "Mama, get on with it. Da's hungry, I'm sure." Lyanna crossed her arms, and continued resolutely. "Rhaegar wanted a third child, and he bargained with me. A child on me, sired by himself, in exchange for Arthur's release from the Kingsguard. Elia told us to go to the Tower of Joy, and they would raise that child as Rhaegar's Blackfyre in the court." She quieted, and Jon continued in her place "Then Robert and Eddard gave chase, and Uncle Brand and Grandfather went to Aerys. Aunt Mara, then the Polecat of Westeros, and her sister, Rhaena Stormheart, Rhaena Axe-hand flew the Stormheart pennant behind them.”

Rickard himself took up the tale. “Amarantha the Fifth and Rhaena found us and staged our deaths, saving Brandon and I from a fate most terrible. I had forgotten the Northern child who had come to Winterfell, and confronted with her reality, that if I had forced my children into marriages they never wanted, I would lose them.” Cersei stared at Lyanna. “Why?” Lyanna considered her question. “Freedom was all I ever wanted, until I found Arthur, and then I discovered that no, life isn’t a song, but for me, he was worth every torture, and every price worth paying.” Robert, who had reentered the hall, had heard the rest of the tale, and his face turned to the colour of curdled milk. Before he could voice his outrage, Arthur inserted “Lyanna has always preferred fidelity and a sword over fury and a hammer.” The insult was clear. Arthur took being Lyanna’s husband seriously, as the honour it was.

Jon sighed and said “Enlightening as this all is, I think King Robert and Lady Catelyn are still hurt at being so totally rejected. Mayhaps I should explain the history of the Stormhearts, Da, Mama.”

Lyanna shrugged and snuggled into Arthur’s chest. Antha climbed into Jon’s lap, and they mirrored Lyanna and Arthur. Jon began “Before Torrhen Stark bent the knee, Daen Blackfyre came North to win a House and lands. He did so because he wished to marry Amarantha Lannister, a golden blond beauty. It took him three years, and advising Torrhen in order to have a House of his own. By then, he was sure hope was lost, that Amarantha the First had married. She proved him wrong by riding North, and scolding him in front of the entire court, including Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys. They were surprised to see a Blackfyre, more so for him to be scolded. When he explained that he’d won a House in the North, and that he needed a wife, she smacked him and told him that for a relative of a King, he was stupid. They married in what would become the Godswood of Stonehome Keep, had a son, Dayan the Great, a daughter, Valyria and they decided their name, sigil and words. The crouching silver polecat with violet eyes, as Amarantha was a Lannister lion, and Daen had the colouring of a traditional Targaryen. Their words were decided by Valyria, who simply declared Torrhen’s successor was one of their own, and that ‘The Pride stands together, forever.’ Amarantha declared that as Daen had stormed her heart, his surname would be Stormheart.”

From Theon’s side, the living Valyria Stormheart rose and swiftly tugged him out of the hall, Antha and Jon in their wake. Dayan the Elder signalled the Stormheart party to leave, but Catelyn demanded “Brandon, remain here.” Mara shot her a look, before putting her hand to Brand’s cheek. He gazed into her eyes, then turned to stand in front of the seated Catelyn.

“Sit.” Her command held bitterness, and he laughed at her. “I do not think so, Catelyn Stark.” She clenched her hands. “What was so wrong with me you hated me?” Brandon sighed, and said quietly “Catelyn, you were only doing as your father told you. My father tried to decide the fate of a full grown man who had taken a lover, who was ready to marry that lover. The only flaw you had was that you were not Amarantha Stormheart, daughter of Dayan Stormheart, and Alysane Mormont Stormheart. For that alone, there was nothing you could’ve done. I said so myself, I lashed out at my father every chance I had.” She stared into the fire, and asked “There is more than what Jon told of Stormheart history, isn’t there?”

He drew in a breath, and answered “There always is.” Before turning on his heel to return to his Mara.


	4. Duel of Desire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Robb is humiliated by his 'bastard' cousin.

Jon Stark Targaryen preferred being mistaken for a Blackfyre. It meant he could ride out the tempest that was the Game of Thrones. For now, at least, he amended. Antha had been pleased to be escorted everywhere by himself or one of his cousins, Ash, Baren and Bael. She had thrown one disdainful look at Robb, and her brother Dayan and their cousin Darrod had pounced like the cats they were. Dayan had interrogated Robb, who had used his eyes to beg Theon to get him out of there. Greyjoy had raised his brows, and walked away.

Robb Stark watched his best friend, Theon Greyjoy, walk away from him as Dayan Stormheart the Younger snapped “Let’s go, Stark. You want to spar against Jon for Antha’s hand, none of us will stop you.” Robb protested “But she-” Darrod sniggered as Bael howled. “No shit.” Dayan grumbled. Robb had lost, long before it had begun, and they knew it, even if he didn’t.

Jon watched his cousin enter the training yard disinterestedly. Antha leaned into his side, murmuring to him. He knew she was saying something important, but the capability to listen was lost as he calculated what the outcome of this possible match could be. Theon and Valyria watched, silent sentinels against the dawn, ready to defend their Pride mates.

Catelyn rushed out to the yard, when Bael informed them that Robb would be sparring against Jon for Amarantha. Her little boy, fighting with live steel? Jon was a bastard! He shouldn’t be sparring a noble trueborn. He is Targaryen. A voice whispered in her mind, and she fought it, reminding herself that he was a Blackfyre, not a Targaryen. Except, he carried himself like a prince.

Halting in the courtyard, she hurried to where Lord Dayan Stormheart the Elder and Lady Amarantha Stormheart Wildwolf waited. The entire Stormheart contingent had come out, but Lady Alysane sat separate from her husband, the others with her. Panting, Lady Stark said urgently to Dayan “Just let Robb have her, her future is assured, he will adore her, and she will love him in time!” Catelyn only wanted to spare her son this match. She never anticipated Mara Wildwolf slapping her. “Shut up, Catelyn. Amarantha would have fought him for her right to choose, and killed him for daring to believe Jon meant less than everything to her. Jon will fight to first blood and let it lie, he would never become a Kinslayer unless it is necessary.” The ice cold voice, the Stormheart hallmark, lashed like a whip across her soul. Desperately, she searched for a reason, but she glanced up to watch Ned’s nephew throw her son to the ground, sword ready to bathe in blood.

The look in Jon’s eyes chilled her to the bone. He had moved like fire, like a Targaryen, but his eyes were devoid of emotion, of mercy, so much like Ned and Brandon and Benjen, yet not. Antha Stormheart, clad in a deep violet dress, stepped forward to proclaim “I, Lady Amarantha Stormheart, Sixth of that name, do acknowledge the efforts of Robert Stark, but I will still marry his cousin, Jon.” Sheathing his sword, Jon swept his cloak from his shoulders, and Antha stepped to him, turning so he could draw it around her shoulders. Despite being too big on her slighter, shorter frame, the black on violet, sweeping around her as she turned to look into Jon’s eyes, she looked like a queen of legend; greeting her hero king returned from his great quest. He, clad in black, grey and slashes of red, his curls falling to his nape, grey eyes still fierce, with a Dayne choker at his throat indicating Arthur’s claim, the Direwolf with a Dragon’s eyes clasping his belt completed the image.

The rising sun gilded Antha’s serenity as it highlighted Jon’s masculine beauty. He stared into her eyes, daring her to find him inadequate. She cupped his cheek, tipped her head back, and laughed. Smiling now, his eyes guarded but thawed, he escorted her into the castle. Both of them ignored everyone, including Robb.

Who knelt, disbelieving, sure she’d have picked him. Brand Wildwolf kicked his leg. “Get up and get over it, she warned you, and your cousin saved your ass. She’d have killed you and not looked back. Robb sputtered  “He’s a Blackfyre-” Theon slapped the back of his head. “Jon is also all hers. His body, mind and soul, forever given to a Polecat of Stonehome.” Defeated entirely, Robb trudged to his chamber, wishing for a wash, when he overheard a gasp in Jon’s, located across the hall from his. “Gods, Jon. Do not stop.” The husky, gasped out order had Robb hard as Valyrian steel.  Jealousy swamped Robb. He would never understand how a roaming bastard held more appeal than a remain in place heir. He had Winterfell, and all they had was Stonehome . . . An idea twisted through him, quickly chased and quenched by guilt.

**  
**She would kill him if he attempted any other scheme. Groaning, he resolved to get over Amarantha Stormheart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry for the short chapter. Distracted by some education issues. Update soon!


	5. Wedding Preparations

Amarantha Stormheart sat calmly embroidering her wedding dress. The lengths of deep purple velvet sat heavily on her lap, shining silver threads curled up from the hems, and the collar was being worked carefully, so it wasn’t over elaborate. A brilliant gold sash, scarlet lions rearing in synchronity, was draped over her mothers’ lap. Windra carefully repaired the sash, binding the scarlet threads tighter with bronze. 

“What is that sash for?” Catelyn asked curiously. Windra smiled gently, and replied “My family is descended from the Castamere lions. My mother, we recently discovered, was the great granddaughter of a younger prince of Dorne. To symbolise those connections, per Stormheart traditions, Amarantha will wear a sash with her mother’s heritage expressed in a single satin sash.” Robb, who’d followed his mother, asked “Who are you marrying?” Amarantha snorted. “Who have I been fucking for the past year and a half?” Valyria, who had strolled in, a huge cloak in her arms, commented “I think he’s about six feet tall, has grey eyes and curly hair nearly the colour of the night.” Windra giggled “His name wouldn’t be Jon, would it?” Amarantha smiled and replied “That sounds like him, Mama, Lyria.” 

Robb felt crushed all over again. She really didn’t want him. Rickard Stark, with Mara Wildwolf and Lyanna Dayne each on an arm came into the solar, Tamira Stormheart following in their wake, arm in arm with Alysane. Mara noticed the pile of fabric in Valyria’s hands, and smiled “Father blessed your union, then?” Antha laughed “Of course he did, Aunt Mara. He blessed yours to Uncle Brand!” Alysane clucked her tongue. “That man of mine has absolutely destroyed his cloak since he married Mara off to Brand.” Seeing the confusion on their faces, Amarantha explained to the Starks “As head of House Stormheart, the current Lord gives his blessing by wrapping his own cloak around the shoulders of his female relatives in place of their maidens cloak. Since my Father will give me away and my brother will take off the maiden cloak, I will wear my grandsires’ Great Cloak.” Tamira smirked “So, will you make a bride’s cloak as well, or what?” Amarantha shook her head. “Oh no. I’ll make Jon a new cloak and he can wrap that around me.” Alysane nodded and spoke her approval “He needs a new one anyway, and your cloak was made half a year ago.” Windra shrugged “You might want to clean the fur on your Grandda’s cloak to be safe.” She advised. Amarantha responded “I’ll do that, but . . .” 

Jon had quietly entered the solar, intent on finding Antha. He needed the comfort she would offer. He noticed the people, and the dress in the lap of his betrothed. Backing away, he waved, but Antha said firmly “Jon, come here. Something is bugging you, and I will not permit you to walk away from me troubled.” A slow blink, a sigh, and Jon crossed the room to kneel in front of her. Guessing his intentions, Amarantha shoved the mostly complete dress at her mother. Groaning, Jon dropped his head into her lap, burying his face into her abdomen, wrapping his arms around aher. Stroking his head, Antha ignored the scandalised gasps of the Starks to murmur “I’ve got you, right here in my heart, Jon.” They remained there for a few minutes, and then Jon pulled back and grinned at her weakly. “Sorry about that Lovey, it’s just . . . Da’s great and all, but I wish I could tell my father- Rhaegar- that I’m marrying such a wonderful woman.” She gave him the sad eyes and half smile he knew she would. Her eyes misted “Jon. I love you, you know.” Grinning wolfishly, he he swallowed back the pain and said with all his cheek “I know you love me, more than Valyria loves Theon.” He kissed the tears trailing down her pale cheeks away. “You look prettier when you aren’t in pain.” His soft comment produced the true smile he desired, and she giggled when he raised himself on his knees to peer into her violet eyes. Gripping her elbows gently, he brushed his lips over hers and breathed “Gods, you are beautiful.” Slipping her arm from his grip, she slid his hair behind his ear, and giggled at him. 

Windra watched her daughter flirt with the man she would marry. Jon clearly adored her, and Amarantha took so much joy from being his, yet she saw his faults. Their love burned like a candle flame, unwavering and bright. She planned on watching until it burned like a forest fire, her girl the happiest she’d ever been. Smirking at Catelyn, she locked eyes with Lyanna, and found her satisfaction mirrored. 

Cat was dumbstruck. For Jon to be so forward, before he married the girl . . . they’d been involved for a long time. Internally she acknowledged that for all his fine qualities, her son had never had a chance. It vexed her, that a bastard, even a Targaryen one, could marry the one woman Robb couldn’t. Catelyn Tully Stark genuinely liked Amarantha Stormheart. For all her battle hardened body, she had retained a softness Maege Mormont hadn’t. She looked up when a mysterious blonde entered. “Am I late?” 

Mara Wildwolf yelped “Rhaena! I haven’t seen you in forever, where have you been?” Rhaena smiled the same smile as Amarantha, a soft, serene gesture. “Bedding the Blackfish of Riverrun, of course, sister mine.” Alysane snorted “Do not tell your father or brothers, before they see you together, my girl. They’ll impale him.” The blonde pouted “Mama, Brynden calls me his pet. Can’t you make them not impale him like you did with Brand and Jon?” Antha, who had been scooped into Jon’s lap, giggled “Aunt Rhaena, did you say he calls you pet?” Jon tutted “Why wouldn’t he call her his pet, Lovey? I call you Lovey, Sweet-” She slapped his arm and growled “No.” Reclining, Jon smirked at his grandfather and cousin. “She likes them, the slap was just for show.” 

Robb forced a laugh, hiding his jealousy. Every other man he knew, it seemed, had a Stormheart. His uncle Brandon, his cousin Jon, and his Great uncle Brynden. It wasn’t fair!


End file.
